A/N: New chapter for everyone. I've kinda decided to make shorter chapters (5-6k as opposed to the typical 10k of the first three or so chapters) because it allows me to be more consistent and properly process the mysteries in my head. For some reason, and I don't know why, two 5k chapters are easier to proofread than one 10k chapter, so go figure.

Anyway, hope everyone enjoys!

Season 1 Episode 5 – A Map Gone Missing (Part 2)

Out of all the subjects Harry Potter had to do at Hogwarts, Care of Magical Creatures was the most fun. Not because he actually cared about the subject that much (he didn't really care about anything outside quidditch, really).

But because Hagrid was, well, good times in half-giant form.

Double the size meant double the fun.

No, not in that way.

Uhh…anyway…

Another interesting feature about Care of Magical Creatures—other than Hagrid's penchant for fun and mischief—was the animals themselves, rather obviously.

And one animal in particular. An animal that had been giving Harry Potter trouble for the better part of a month, and he needed to get to grips with them—no, not that kind of grip—for the sake of his current case and his own mental sanity.

Bloody nifflers.

Or the vile cretins who deface books, as Madam Pince would say.

It was yet another Care of Magical Creatures class that afternoon, with the winds of Hogwarts circling them in a halo of confusion. The autumn brought with it gusts that were sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes ticklish, whilst other times it felt like a distant hurricane had been teleported right to the castle's doorstep.

Snow had yet to fall, though the onset of November soon meant the grounds would eventually be covered in blankets of shining white, and Harry would have to spend more time within the castle's walls.

Probably in that library, if Granger didn't kill him by then.

Thankfully, the winds were easier to manage today, only swishing his robes around instead of whipping them into a frenzy, and Harry approached Hagrid after their class on the living habits of garden gnomes.

Apparently, the gnomes weren't just supposed to be chucked away like Ron and his family did whenever Harry had visited them over the summer. No, they were able to burrow underneath the dirt and absorb the nutrients in the soil, before popping back up in people's gardens to take their refuge, like a strange species of plant.

Why they chose human gardens as their places of rest? No one in the magical world had a clue, least of all Hagrid, and their textbooks were just as empty on the subject.

"Bit confusin', that one," Hagrid had told Harry after accepting him into his hut. "Maybe another mystery fer the two of you to solve, eh?" Hagrid rumbled with laughter, right as Fang bounded up to him and jumped into the arms of his owner.

Since the Gryffindors had Care of Magical Creatures with the Ravenclaws, Granger opted to join Harry for his conversation. She entered behind him, and shut the door with a bang that was a little too loud for Harry's liking.

Just a little.

Not that he'd tell the witch his opinion. That was like a death sentence over a slip of the tongue. And if there was one person in the world Harry didn't want to piss off—it was the Ravenclaw extraordinaire turned detective turned pretty-when-she-smiled Hermione Granger.

That last one made Harry's mind scrunch into a ball and cringe a million times over. Just what on earth had he been thinking when that statement blurted out of him in the library's second floor, after they'd solved the previous case.

Gosh, he was lucky she hadn't taken his head off for that—both heads. Maybe she was so high off solving the case that she'd spared a little mercy for an unfortunate soul. But Harry couldn't rely on that in the future.

So his mouth was zipped tight, at least when it came to those kinds of compliments. He just hoped his mind, the unconscious part inside it anyway, would do the same.

Hagrid's hut was as homely as always, air wrapping over them as if the giant himself was engulfing them in a hug. The fireplace was permanently on, orange sparks waving them forwards to sit at the rickety wooden table on which empty cups and a half-filled glass of firewhiskey was near-frothing.

"I'll get rid o' that," Hagrid said, dumping the rest of the alcohol into a bin before turning to face them, sheepish smile in place. "Can't 'ave me students seein' that side o' me, can I?"

"We've already seen it, Professor," Granger replied, voice as dry as the wood in the fireplace. "Many times, actually."

"Well, better keep it hush between yerselves then," Hagrid said, chuckling. He told Fang to sit in a corner, before grabbing his always full stash of rock cakes and lugging them over to the table. He took a bite out of one—how he had the strength to, Harry didn't know—and then sat at the table and invited them to do the same.

Harry sat down seconds later, trusting Hagrid.

Granger was a little too reluctant.

Just a little.

Not that Harry was about to tell the witch that. Death sentences and all that, remember?

"I'm guessin' the two of you are 'ere to ask about them ruddy nifflers again," Hagrid said. "Well, I am the animal expert the castle's got, so fire away 'arry and 'ermione. I just can't get the suckers out right now because they're in another part o' Hogwarts grounds."

"Right…" Hermione started, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Magical animals, some of them anyway, can be as sentient as humans—centaurs and the like. But others behave like regular animals, such as spiders, without as much of a will as humans. At least, that is all we can observe from the books I have read on this subject. Therefore—"

"What she's asking," Harry continued, before Hermione blew the place down with her verbal huffing and puffing, "is can nifflers have a free will just like humans can? How intelligent are they? Can they…"

Can they steal a bloody map for nefarious purposes?

Not that I'm ever gonna ask him that. He'll hold it over me for the rest of my life.

Why was Harry asking such a ridiculous question late after class when he really wished to return to Gryffindor Tower and spend the evening playing wizarding chess with Seamus and the lads (not Ron because that was as much a death sentence as insulting Granger)?

Because Hermione had shown him a photo from Lavender Brown's camera, a photo that depicted a niffler hopping outside one of the many air vents of the castle. And in that niffler's fur was lodged a piece of parchment, and there was no mistaking the possibilities there.

No mistaking that the piece of parchment, stolen by the niffler, could very well be the exact same map the Weasley twins were searching for.

Which posed a question—nifflers, from common knowledge, were obsessed with shiny objects such as gold. But could that obsession extend to other things?

In other words, how intelligent were they to ignore their base desires and search for things that weren't shiny, such as books or parchment?

Were there monks amongst the nifflers, able to suppress their worldly desires for things higher above, like knowledge and power?

"Not much to say about that," Hagrid replied, cramming another rock cake into his mouth and chewing. God, his chewing was the eighth wonder of the world…which could destroy all the other seven wonders in one go. "Some people 'ave tried to look at things like that, Ol' Leon bein' one o' them. But 'ow d'you measure intelligence anyway? Even in witches and wizards, 'ermione, you got folks smarter than others, you got folks who can do what no one else can, like Professor Dumbledore."

"I know where the dumb ones are," Granger muttered.

Harry, for one, felt utterly insulted.

"I know where the bookworms are," he muttered beneath his breath. A weak reply, but a reply nonetheless. Harry Potter gave as good as he got, or at least tried to.

Now back to the case.

"Magic ain't changed much over the last thousands o' years," Hagrid said. "You got Merlin being the most powerful wizard in 'istory, then the 'ogwarts founders themselves. You could say they got more knowledge than us folks ever will."

"Yes, but we can't exactly go to Merlin's books and see what he wrote, can we?" Granger muttered.

"Nah, but keep an open mind, 'ermione," Hagrid replied. His eyes swivelled between Harry and Granger, and a smile stretched onto his face. "Dunno what thing yer 'aving to solve now, 'specially if it's got nifflers involved again, but I know the two of you'll get to the bottom o' it."

I hope so, Harry muttered. But all this conversation's given us…

Well, it's more questions than answers.

And that wasn't good, because half a week had already passed, which meant time was, slowly, dwindling from their grasp. One and a half weeks left, and the task seemed insurmountable.

They needed a breakthrough.

And soon.

Hermione Granger smiled a little at the predicament she'd found herself in. Her love for reading overshadowed everything else in this world, because reading was the gateway to satisfying her curiosity in almost every scenario.

And once again, she found herself in the library's second floor, in the Den, with a book in front of her, splayed out. A book on spell invention, as always, since that was her topic of interest at this current time.

Because Halloween was in a week and some change, exams had already finished, meaning everyone was free to relax in classes—not that Hermione would stoop to their level—and take it easy till the holidays arrived. Most of the students lived for the holidays, breathed for rest.

Hermione breathed so she had the life to pursue her curiosity.

Potter sat in the armchair opposite her, twiddling his thumbs together like a child at a playground waiting their turn to go on the slide. He had a book before him, too—a book on nifflers and their habits, and techniques to catch them.

Not that Hermione was advocating animal abuse, or anything of the sort.

But, if they were to retrieve the map for the Weasley twins, it would necessitate trapping the niffler on some level. So the information wasn't completely useless.

"Found anything?" Potter muttered, glancing over at Hermione from across the table. "You know, this is boring as all hell. Why can't we do more field work, like interviews and all that?"

"This isn't some crime novel," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. "Those television shows and books don't show the reality of what it's like to be a detective."

"And you would know the reality because…"

"My grandfather was a detective even late into his life…and he always told me how boring it was to research things most of the day."

"What about the exciting gunfights, the car chases, catching criminals red handed?"

Hermione's face fell. "They don't exist as much as you think, and if they do they're not exciting. Not in the slightest." She sighed, grabbed her book once more, and continued reading. "Concentrate, Potter. We've got an hour left till curfew, so not much time left for the day."

"And then the holidays can begin after we solve the case!"

Hermione couldn't help the little smile forming, but she yanked it back down before Potter could see it.

The book on spell inventions veered into a chapter regarding charms related to the mind. Laws in the wizarding world forbade using charms that could alter someone's state of mind, especially when they were in a vulnerable position.

Hundreds of years prior, dozens of cases involving vulnerable orphans were brought to the ministry—the children had been used as slave labour, essentially, with manipulation charms administered to create that effect and to stop them from reporting what happened. Other instances in the 1600s revealed centaurs and werewolves being manipulated to cause havoc, before suffering the consequences of a crime they didn't commit.

Most common wizards knew of the ban on the Imperius curse, but the ministry's actions actually provided a far wider scope.

From then, in particular 1658, the ministry ruled that all spells related to altering the mind were banned from use, unless circumstances called for it. Such as urgently needing a calming charm when a nurse dealt with a delirious patient and a calming drought wasn't available. Or when a criminal, just about to commit a crime, required detaining.

Or in cases of war, and the previous wizarding war—according to the history books since Hermione had been less than a year old at the time—certainly fit the bill.

Hermione found the information fascinating, just as she did all information about history, most of all the goblin wars Professor Binns directed them to study. But it appeared that, apart from history, the book on spell invention did not wish to mention anything else.

Whilst books exist on the components which make a mind-alteration spell and methods to create them, this particular book will not care to mention the details. The information on such happenings pertains only to those with the necessity to use such knowledge, amongst them educators or those working in secret services within law enforcement.

The same information on spell invention has been excluded from the following section, titled Transformation Charms—From Human to Animal and Animal to Animal.

"Do detectives fit the bill of knowing such information?" Hermione muttered beneath her breath.

"Fit what bill?" Potter replied, constantly seeking a way to butt into the conversation, from the looks of things.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "Anyway, have you found anything in that book of yours?" Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Have you even been reading the entire time?"

"'Course I have," Potter said, his smile so infuriating Hermione wished to grab a book—no, a pen since books were too valuable to waste—and sock him in the mouth. "There actually is some interesting information in here, I swear. Apparently, nifflers are fond of tight spaces and like sneaking around."

"Well, that makes sense to anyone with two brain cells to rub together, which would include you, Potter. Tight spaces make sneaking around better, and sneaking around makes it easier to steal gold and other shiny objects."

"Luckily, I have a third brain cell, unlike you, Granger." Potter hit the desk with his palm, and the sound echoed through the entire library.

Hermione hadn't realised how empty it was until now, which was a given since exams were already over. The silence ringing across shelves and tables and chandeliers made the Den feel isolated, as though only Potter and Hermione and the books around them existed in the world.

Hermione ignored the lonely feeling and continued. "And that third brain cell tells you…"

"That if the nifflers like tight spaces and sneaking around, then it's no wonder they go into the vents all the time. And that's why every photo the photography club got of the nifflers, it's always next to some kind of vent. That must be the way they're getting around the castle."

"Good detective work," Hermione said, more reluctantly than she wished to admit. "See, following the clues can lead somewhere. You don't always need to sully yourself with field work and find this out-of-the-box solution to everything."

"You owe me because of that method," Potter said with a grin.

"Aye, aye," Hermione muttered.

And then she realised a detail that spread a sinful smile across her face. A detail she couldn't pass up on, not at all.

Hogwarts clubs usually met on Thursdays and Fridays, since those days were the lightest in terms of school workload. A few met earlier, such as the quidditch team which officially counted as a club, but the photography club wasn't one of them. Which meant the photography club would likely be meeting tomorrow, a Thursday, or the day after.

Hermione stopped herself from cackling like a witch out of a kids TV program. She coughed, removed her smile through sheer force of will, before facing Potter once more.

"What's got you so excited?" Potter asked. "Let me guess, Witch Weekly's got a new shampoo sale just for you?"

"Don't lump me in with Lavender and the other Gryffindor girls," Hermione said, shuddering at her memory of having to deal with Lavender rambling on about her magazine and how it would reshape the world for witches across Britain. "I have far more important things to do—such as researching nifflers further."

Potter's eyebrows furrowed. "Ain't that my job?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile this time. "Nope, I've taken over. There's another job for you that's far more important. You wanted field work, didn't you?"

Potter paused, clearly nervous. "Yes…"

"Then I've got the perfect assignment for you."

I thought I was done with cameras, Harry thought. But it seems like fate, and Granger, have got other plans for me.

For God's sake…

Well, at least Harry had gotten back at her in a small way by planting sweets on the library table, different snacks he'd thought the witch would enjoy. Chocolate frogs, jelly beans, and the like.

After all, the biggest saints in public were the most deviant in private.

And that girl, for sure, had a sweet tooth on her.

Anyway, back to—

"I never expected that Harry Potter would be in the Photography Club with me!" Colin exclaimed, so excited that Harry felt sorry for the boy. The smile on Colin's face was almost infectious.

Key word: almost.

Harry certainly wasn't smiling, but it appeared the rest of the club were happy to have him. Smiling whilst holding their cameras in hand and discussing things amongst themselves. The only ones near Harry at this moment were Colin and Lavender, who knew of the case details.

The club room itself was nothing fancy, just an old classroom, unused for years, that had been repurposed. An array of decorations had been hung up—from portraits of famous cameras to the different photos taken by members of the club scattered across the cream-painted walls.

The desks that usually populated a classroom had been pushed to a side in favour of a large red carpet—Lavender's doing, no doubt, what with her desire to be a celebrity at all costs.

The area was spacious, like the unused second floor of the library, and rather comfortable in a way. Not that Harry would mention it to Colin, since the boy would likely hound him until Harry subscribed to the club and came here every week.

"You want to know how cameras work?" Colin asked excitedly, standing in the centre of the red carpet.

"Colin, maybe you should take a breather," Lavender said, turning to Harry and winking. "It's not good to talk too much, is it? I'll explain everythin' to Harry."

Colin lowered his head. "Okay, Lav."

Harry's eyebrow rose on its own, and he looked to Lavender. "Lav?" he whispered.

"He's like a little brother to me so the nickname's fine," Lavender said. She leaned in and whispered. "The rest of the club are mostly olders, so I try take care of him a little as a fellow Gryff. Don't want him getting swept up in somethin' dodgy, you get me?"

Harry nodded, then switched the subject so Colin wouldn't get too suspicious. "What's this about magical cameras?"

"Muggle cameras use electricity, right," Lavender started. "But electrics mess with magic like you wouldn't believe. Makes everything go haywire like there's actual lightning strikes happenin'. Trust me, I've tried bringin' me own gear to Hogwarts once, and it ain't pretty."

"So how do magic cameras work then?" Harry asked, nodding to the one in Lavender's hands.

"Well…electricity is just energy, right? But that energy—"

"Comes in all different forms!" Colin interrupted, cheeks red as if he'd been holding everything in before exploding. "Let's walk and talk!"

That's right. I'm not here for no reason. We're meant to see the vent, after all. Granger's orders.

Through Colin's incessant chatter, none of which Harry absorbed, they dispersed onto the corridor and began walking to the third floor, where the vent Lavender had pictured was most likely located.

"What kind of different energy forms are there?" Harry asked, finally remembering what Colin had been rambling about. He ignored the strange looks from those they passed on the way to the third floor.

Sure, the trio looked weird—Hogwarts' (in)famous fashionista, the Boy-Who-Lived, and a second year Gryffindor chanting about cameras like his soul depended on it.

But Harry had met the weirdest of them all— no names, of course—so he was unfazed by the attention. And truthfully, he'd had eyes on him ever since first year where the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived was revealed.

Nothing could compare to that opening feast.

Not a thing.

"Dad told me about it that he learnt it in Physics," Colin said, ramming Harry's mind back to the present. "Loads of energies, like kinetic and electric and elastic potential energy."

"But one energy that muggles don't know about?" Lavender asked, as though a professor.

"It's magical energy!"

"Ten points to Gryffindor," she said, ruffling Colin's hair a little.

The younger boy beamed, before turning to Harry once more. "So companies that want to make magical things like cameras and stuff—they just use magical energy instead of electricity!"

Magical energy. But…that doesn't make sense, does it?

As they turned the next corner, which revealed the infamous moving staircases, some of which led upwards, Harry voiced his question. "I get that in a magical place you can get that magical energy from around you, but what about if you're not in Hogwarts? How does it work off the grounds, like in the Forbidden Forest or in the middle of Surrey?"

"You got something wrong, Harry," Lavender said, rising on the steps to his left. She leaned on the railing like there wasn't a fifty foot drop on the other side. "It ain't about the place you're in, cos think about it a bit. What else is magical that works no matter where we are?"

Harry's hand unconsciously brushed his robe pocket, where his wand was stashed, along with some spare galleons. He pulled his wand out, and raised an eyebrow at Colin.

"Yes, that's it!" Colin said, clapping his hands and looking way too happy for Harry's liking. But the enthusiasm rolled off the boy, and Harry couldn't help but be swept up in it a little. "Your wand takes your magical energy and uses it to do spells. Cameras and all other magical things are the same. They use your magical energy to make it all work!"

Harry rubbed his chin in thought whilst the staircases lined up, as though mimicking his thoughts, and freed their path to the third floor. "So if my aunt grabbed that camera—"

"It would work about as well as deodorant against rats," Lavender said as they walked onto the third floor and began following the statues leading to the vent at the far end.

"That's a…rather specific example, isn't it?" Harry said, pocketing his wand again.

"Lav's told me that one before, Harry!" Colin said. "But she said it's a secret so I shouldn't tell."

"You've gone and done it now anyway," Lavender muttered. She passed a hand over her eyes, as though memories could be erased just like that, before sighing. "I was five, okay. Five. And it was my dad's deodorant, not mine. I'm allowed to try things out, can I not?"

"We've all got deodorants in the closet," Harry quipped, with his hands up. "And we're here anyway, so perfect timing for Lavender."

"Too right it is," Lavender said. "So…what are we here for exactly, Mr Detective?"

"Detective Potter would suffice," Harry said with a laugh. He pointed at the vent, which was too small for a human to fit into, but large enough that a niffler could easily sneak inside. "Can I see that picture again, if you don't mind? I just want to make sure."

Lavender showed him the image on her camera, and Harry cross-checked it with the vent before them.

It was a match.

But being a match meant nothing as of now. Because it wasn't as if the actual niffler would appear before them and hand the map over along with a peace treaty to sign.

No, they needed to be smart to catch the niffler and, therefore, the map.

Out of the box thinking, Harry liked to call it.

Granger opted for a bunch of nonsense, but Harry disregarded her insult and continued onwards.

"We're going to need a galleon and someone's camera," Harry muttered. "I know that's a big ask—"

"Exactly, we need our galleons," Lavender said. " Witch Weekly's got a new sale next week, and best believe I'm grabbin' some of the new shampoo they got on offer."

"So there really was new shampoo on offer…" Harry muttered, thinking back to his conversation with Granger the day before. "But that isn't the point," he continued. "I got the galleon already. I meant your camera—I need it for at least a few days, maybe more. That's the big ask."

"You can use mine!" Colin said, then his face fell as though a character in a comic changing expressions from one panel to the next. "But…the magazine for our Halloween special…what do we do about that?"

"No need to worry about that," Harry said. "I'm sure there's a spare you can use. And…if all goes to plan—and I think it really might—then you'll have the biggest scoop of them all."

"Really?" Colin exclaimed.

"You really will," Harry confirmed. "Detective Potter guarantees it."

"Wonder what you're cooking up this time, Detective Potter," Lavender said with a shake of her head.

"Just you wait and see," Harry said, glint in his eye, hand already around the galleon stored in his pocket. The plan in his mind needed to work just once, and that was enough to get the info they needed.

The info to solve the case and find the map once and for all.

"Just you wait and see," he repeated, as if Granger herself could hear his words from the second floor of the library.

And he set the plan into motion.

The weeks leading up to Halloween, and indeed the day itself, proved a strange time for Hermione Granger. The castle would play dress up, Great Hall decked out like Lavender on a fashion bend as Halloween neared, and Hermione couldn't help but get swept up in the festivities.

But only a little.

Because she had good reason to hate Halloween, not that anyone else in the castle knew that. Not a single soul, other than her family, knew why she hated that day. And Hermione would rather it stay that way.

So, she always spent that day cooped up in the library, in the Den, where none would disturb her and she could pass the time reading in peace. Reading—her only companion in the world where every other companion had failed her.

Still, Halloween was a week and a half away, and she had the case of the missing map to solve before then.

So here she was, sitting in her trusty armchair, air nice and murky just like their case, whilst a silence pervaded the atmosphere and settled over her like a blanket that was both warm and scratchy at the same time.

She was a little irritated, but irritation was the source of invention.

And Hermione needed her brain firing on all cylinders now.

Potter had revealed, rather naturally, that the niffler used the vents to travel across the castle. The niffler who had torn the page of the book—the topic of their first case together—had used the vent on the second floor of the library. And the niffler who'd stolen the Weasley twins' map used another vent in the castle, likely on the third floor from what Hermione had seen.

But just locating the vent did nothing, because what good was knowing where the niffler came from if they couldn't catch it in the act? And if they couldn't retrieve the map in the end?

No, Hermione needed more information on a niffler's habits, on their tendencies, on ways to subdue them when necessary, information that Care of Magical Creatures classes alone wouldn't provide her.

And that meant research, more research, and nothing but research.

She opened up her book on advanced magical creatures again, ignoring the temptation of the few snacks Potter had brought in the last time he'd been in here. Chocolate frogs, a few jelly beans in a sealed container, and a strange candy wherein wizarding chess pieces had been made edible—they all stared at Hermione, waiting to be devoured.

But Hermione had to control herself. Had to resist until she'd done enough work to justify it.

Whilst making notes in the case notebook, which was filling up nicely and which showed that they had little less than nine days remaining, she'd read studies about how animals were controlled using reward mechanisms, whether positive or negative reinforcement. In fact, those same techniques were used in Care of Magical Creatures to gain the trust of animals like Hippogriffs.

But Hermione wasn't an animal, wasn't as low and immoral as a niffler, so she had to remain firm. Even in the face of incredible danger, in the form of delectable snacks whilst her stomach rumbled in agony, she had to remain steadfast.

But the chocolate frogs look so good, that voice in her mind said, the voice that evaded reason and opted for her deepest desires. How can you just leave them there, all lonely and alone and in solitude and lonesome?

That isn't fair, is it? Not when Potter got them for you to eat in the first place.

That blasted Potter. Always interfering in her life and causing her brain to melt on the worst of occasions. She wished to read in peace, but his meddling had caused a dilemma far worse than three hours stuck with Lavender in a broom closet whilst forced to listen to her ramblings about Witch Weekly.

Almost unconsciously, Hermione's hand reached out to touch the edge of a chocolate frog packet. She seized her hand back, her fingertips zinging like they had just passed over a flame. Her eyes darted around the library, hoping none had seen her slip-up.

Potter was nowhere to be found, thankfully, and Hermione sighed and tried to rest back in her armchair.

She flicked a glance at the case notebook, before leaning across and reading over her and Potter's previous notes. Nifflers liked small spaces, liked to sneak around, had a little pouch in the middle of their head where they stored items they'd collected, loved to steal gold and other shiny objects, had a very acute sense of smell when it came to humans because they often stole from them.

Apparently, nifflers used smell to suss out shiny objects, and not just sight. Hermione didn't know metals had a smell, and that the shinier the metal, the better it smelt. But she learned new things every day…even if they were, you know, very strange things that general witches and wizards had no use learning.

Unfortunately, her and Potter weren't the most regular witch and wizard.

What was that thing Potter had said about a detective agency of all things?

Hermione rubbed her forehead and released the thought. Maybe she'd been researching for too long and needed a break. Potter had gone with Colin and Lavender—Hermione's brilliant idea to get him out of the library—to scout out the vent the niffler had come from.

Potter was likely finished now, and was probably relaxing in Gryffindor Tower with his friends like the lazy sloth he proved to be at the worst of times.

Hermione sighed and glanced over more of the info she and Potter had noted down, all whilst that rage in her stomach prompted her eyes to veer to the left. Just a little. Until her gaze fell upon those chocolate frogs and jelly beans.

Delectable.

Yummy.

I want it.

The rumble in her stomach intensified. She felt like a niffler on the prowl, searching for anything sweet to satisfy her cravings.

How on earth had Potter found out about her sweet tooth? Sure, she carried sweets in her bag sometimes, but she always made sure to eat them when Potter wasn't looking—a habit borne from snacking whilst her dentist parents were unaware.

Had Fay and Farah, two of Hermione's newly made friends in Ravenclaw, tipped him off to the fact like government informants?

Regardless, Hermione closed the case notebook and searched around the library. The silence enveloped her, wrapping around her like a bubble of safety, and she inched closer to the chocolate frogs.

Reached a hand out.

Glanced around the library again.

The quiet was deafening.

Apart from her stomach's rumble.

The shelves glared at her, spines of books forming rows of soldiers that seemed intent to attack once she chose to stuff her mouth with sweets.

But Hermione had to cave in. Just this once, when no one was looking, less than an hour before curfew.

What was the harm, eh?

She grabbed a chocolate frog packet, one of many, ripped open the top, and pulled the sucker towards her mouth.

This is going to taste amazing, that voice in her mind said.

With the chocolate frog centimetres away from her mouth, a thud snapped her mental lull in half. And out of thin air—and it really was thin air, Hermione had to assert—Harry Potter's face came into existence.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist them," he said with a grin. "Let me know how they taste, yeah. This is a good batch from Hogsmeade."

Hermione's hands dropped the chocolate frog, onto her lap upon which it began melting, yet her mouth remained agape as she stared at Potter's…well, head.

And nothing but his head.

His entire body was masked, somehow, from view, the floor behind it completely visible.

An invisibility charm? Or a potion?

But he wasn't near advanced enough to be able to do that. And potions of that complexity weren't cheap, or easy, to make.

A masking charm intensified to the max to cloak himself to his surroundings?

But that was beyond-Hogwarts level of knowledge, and there wasn't a chance someone with Potter's study habits was able to perform such a feat.

"Invisibility cloak," Potter said, as if sensing the question in Hermione's mind.

She coughed once, before her vocal chords sprang into motion. "Just how on earth did you get your hands on something like that? Is that even legal, Potter?"

"Who knows if it's legal, Granger," Potter said in an airy voice. "Maybe you'll have to report me to Azkaban. I wonder if dementors can sense through invisibility cloaks."

"They can," Hermione muttered, brain retrieving the information as if on autopilot. "They're blind, but they sense fear and other emotions rather than using the same senses as us. Also, there's another interesting tidbit—no, I will not be tricked into this. Just how did you get your hands on something like that?"

Whilst its legality was up in the air, Hermione was…well, intrigued to say the least. It wasn't every day that something so extraordinary popped into existence for the young witch. But around Potter, there was no telling what strange things she'd find.

Potter didn't just live around the rivers of extraordinary. He fished in its waters. All day, every day. And brought to Hermione whatever nonsense he'd managed to dredge up.

"Who cares about that?" Potter said, jumping into his armchair and grabbing a chocolate frog. "Let's have some of these and celebrate. I've come up with a plan that'll help solve the case for sure."

"Gosh, you're like a rat in a cage," Hermione muttered. "No thought or anything. And will you please—for the love of God—take that cloak off. It's starting to mess with my head."

The chocolate frog melting on Hermione's robes wasn't helping her mood, either.

"Maybe I'll wear it for life then," Potter muttered, but at Hermione's fiery glare, he slipped the rest off his body and sat like a normal human being in a normal armchair made for normal human beings, robes below his head finally visible…like a normal human being.

Like a rat in a cage, a voice within Hermione said, recalling her previous words.

And the details in her mind began forming, connecting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She grabbed a chocolate frog, ripped open the packet, and stuffed it in her mouth.

God, was it so good.

She deserved it for the idea that had just struck her mind.

A throwaway comment in a spell invention book she'd read, added to something Hagrid had mentioned, added to the characteristics of a niffler, added to other details they'd gotten across the case, added to Potter's willingness for field work, added to what Potter's plan would likely reveal.

Yep, Hermione had a plan for the ages, borne from pure detective work. She glanced over at Potter, then at the jelly beans still sealed in that container.

She reached over, flicked open the lid, popped a bean in her mouth, and chewed.

Swallowed.

Smiled.

Ignored the chocolate still melting on her robes.

Yes, this should go well.

Very, very well.

A/N: Well, I wonder what the plan is [insert evil laugh here]. I've always fancied Hermione to have a sweet tooth, especially since her parents are dentists and she's now away from their prison of good health! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. The next chapter should wrap up this case, and the one after that (Episode 7) will be a special one! Can't wait to get to it!